I'm Not Bella
by Aeshna Lacrymosa
Summary: Elspeth Dwyer has had it with arguing with her mom Renée. After a particularly stressful confrontation, Elspeth is sent to Forks to live with Renée's ex-husband Charlie. There, she discovers the truth about her half-sister Bella.
1. Chapter 1

_Sent Away_

The town of Forks was exactly how my Mom had described it to me: perpetually overcast, it smelled heavily of forest pine. Compared to Jacksonville's sunny atmosphere, Forks looked rather dreary. I hoped the people here weren't sullen as the climate. But my worries about that were lifted as soon as Charlie Swan, my mom's ex-husband, showed up at the airport to pick me up.

I was to live with him for a few weeks. I would have moved in instead with my sister Bella, whom I had never met, if it weren't for the fire that burned the Cullen house along with her and her family ten years ago.

"Elspeth," said Chief Swan, "why, except for the hair, you look a lot like Bella."

I knew that was supposed to be a compliment, so I smiled. But inside, it stung. To be compared with my sister was the last thing I wanted to hear. I had seen pictures of her when she was my age; I do bear a striking resemblance to her, especially the lips and the smile and the shape of her face and her eyes. But my eyes are sea-green, like my dad's; my hair is naturally honey blonde, but I had dyed streaks of red, hot pink and violet on it.

Yes, since enjoying pieces of gothic literature such as those of Bram Stoker, Washington Irving, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edgar Allan Poe and Mary Shelley, as well as modern pieces like Emilie Autumn's _The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls_ and Jillian Venters's _Gothic Charm School_, I am a Goth. Mom never really complained about that since I made up for it by avoiding the crap that encouraged false stereotypes on the subculture.

"I hope I'm not intruding," I told Chief Swan. Indeed, the last thing I wanted was to barge into this man's life. But I had been having problems that led to something that even I didn't like. At home, Mom would complain about my occasional mood swings and the mess I would make in my room. It would have all been okay if she wouldn't follow it up by comparing me to Bella and how neat and smart and responsible she was. My dad Phil would try to make me feel better but he would end up defending Mom by saying that she just misses my sister.

That broke my heart even more. My sister, who got married right after high school and never came to visit my mother, was still more special to Mom than me, who tried to make her proud for sixteen years. So one day, I packed my bags, expecting her to stop me. To my surprise, she told me to go ahead and leave, just like Bella did. She arranged with Bella's dad Charlie to accommodate my presence for the time being. I thought she was either crazy or stupid to just let me go.

"Why are you crying?" asked Chief Swan, while he drove me to his home.

"I'm not crying," I lied, not wanted to let him know how much I hated his daughter.

"I hope you like Forks," said Chief Swan.

His house was a quaint one. It has two floors, and it looked bigger on the inside. It wasn't as warm and welcoming as the one my family had in Jacksonville, but it sure looked cozy. I was given my sister's old room. The walls were still decorated with her childhood drawings and cutouts and teenage posters. It disturbed me to know that these decorations had been here all my life.

"I had the bedclothes laundered …" muttered Chief Swan.

No matter how much of it was a reminder of my sister, I still liked it. "It looks fit for a princess. Thanks, Chief Swan."

"Call me Charlie."

At that, he left me alone to unpack by myself. I wasn't normally very neat, so I might have to ask him for help later. Half an hour later, the closet was filled with my clothes. When I was putting my shoes at the bottom of the closet, I found a half-filled scrapbook.

Bella didn't seem to have been at all interested in filling it out. There were no colorful designs—only a few photos, including a few of a small group of people I guessed to be her high school friends, and several pictures of a gorgeous guy with chestnut hair. Bella looked awkward and uneasy next to him. It would have been better if she'd tried to smile more happily. After all, it was obvious from the way they held each other that they were crazy about one another.

"His name was Edward Cullen," said Charlie's voice behind me.

"Yeah, Mom told me," I said. "We have a few wedding pictures at home. Mom seems fond of him."

Charlie suddenly made a strange choking noise, as if he just tried not to laugh. I turned to him. "Don't you like him?" I asked.

"He was fine, really," began Charlie. "Normally well-behaved and polite, I could see why Bella felt safe with him. But there was this time when he abruptly broke up with her and left her depressed for months. I'll spare you the details, but to summarize: I thought that was unforgivable."

"But you let them get back together!"

"I _tried_ making her see things my way. But all she saw was _him_. I had to learn to let her go."

It was hard not to be judgmental. I had never met Bella. There could be a thousand possible reasons as to why she broke away from her family just to be with a guy she had known for less than two years. But I was deeply disturbed: no respectable young woman would let a guy back in after leaving her like that. Meanwhile, I was awed at how patient Charlie and Mom had been.

Once I was done unpacking, I eased my mind by taking out my violin and playing Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor, of which I had only recently mastered the first movement. I had fallen in love with the violin when I was four, when I'd spotted a shiny one displayed at a window of a music store not far from the athletics store where Daddy had bought his equipment. The store owner had seen me and, noting my fascination with the little instrument, shown me how to play one. On my fifth birthday, Mom and Daddy had bought me my first violin. At first, it was just a hobby. But by the time I was about six, Mom had started opening up about Bella, and the comparisons begun. The violin became my outlet; and with it, I tried to prove to her that I could be good in my own right. Mom became proud of me, like I had expected her to be, but that didn't stop her from comparing me with Bella. If I had a choice, I wouldn't have gone to Forks, where Bella used to live. But I am only sixteen; my parents would be making choices for me until I move out and go to college. Fortunately, with Charlie looking after me, things might not be bad.


	2. Chapter 2

"_How Did You Know?"_

Charlie heard me playing, so he assumed I had interest in visual arts, too, which was absolutely correct. He walked me to the Rainforest Art Center. I was so thrilled. But Charlie said he had seen the galleries a thousand times, so he opted to visit the hardware store across the street.

The paintings and sculptures on display were fantastic indeed—still life, landscapes, nudes … in oil, acrylic, watercolor … wood, metal, glass—in any medium, they captivated me. I had visited many art galleries, and each time, I'd find myself wishing I could make great paintings, too. But my first love has always been music; after getting myself occupied in a little bit of lacrosse, I never had time to see whether my hand was any good holding a paintbrush.

As I examined the details of a wintry landscape at twilight, a girl about my age stood next to me. I glanced at her. But after that, it was difficult not to give her a second look. She was about my height—five feet, five inches. But in contrast to my tan, she was delicately pale like the women in Rossetti's portraits. She also had long, exquisitely curly auburn hair that reached her waist. She wore a short sleeved baby pink tent dress and grey leggings underneath. She also wore suede evening gloves, which was strange because it was too warm to wear gloves. "Hello," I said to her. "Do you come here often?"

She smiled pleasantly at me, revealing prominent canines as white as the rest of her teeth. "I only come here twice a year," she told me. "There are new pieces added to the collection every six months or so. Sometimes, there are special galleries hosted by visiting artists."

"Oh, that's too bad! I'm only staying here for a few weeks this summer."

"That explains why I haven't seen you before." Her brown eyes looked me up and down, lingering on my hair and my face. I wondered if she had ever seen a Goth before. "I'm Vanessa, by the way—Vanessa Wolfe," she said, extending her hand to me.

I gladly took it. "I'm Elspeth Dwyer."

"Dwyer," she echoed softly, as if she had recalled a distant memory.

"Is my name familiar, Vanessa?"

"I must have encountered it in some sports station or something."

"Well, my dad's a minor league baseball player. … I don't think he's ever been on TV."

Vanessa's face suddenly glowed as if she remembered something important. But she didn't tell me anything about it. Maybe it wasn't even worth asking.

"What about you, were you born and raised here?" I asked.

"Not exactly," said. "I was born in the outskirts of town. … But you—are you staying with a relative?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Technically, Charlie and I weren't related at all; he was just kind enough to do my mom a favor. I didn't think a lot of ex-husbands would do that. "I've never been here before, actually. I live in Florida with my parents. And then, I thought I'd explore new places, so I went here. I'm amused that I'm always surrounded by evergreens." I cringed as soon as I finished saying it. It did sound convincing, but I should have said something nicer than evergreens.

Vanessa giggled, sensing my embarrassment. "I suppose I would be thrilled to see white-sand beaches in Jacksonville," she chirped.

I frowned at her. "I don't remember telling you that I live in Jacksonville," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. Her chocolate-brown eyes immediately widened in response. I kept hoping she would come up with an excuse. But her silence convinced me that she _somehow_ knew who I was.

I got a bit scared too. Those cute almond eyes couldn't move me. "E-Elspeth—I—"

I interrupted, "Forget it. I gotta go anyway." I glanced at my wristwatch to pretend to be on some schedule. "It's nice meeting you," I said with a stiff smile before walking away.

I went straight to the hardware store across the street, where I found Charlie just about to leave it. "Hey, I was supposed to meet you at the gallery," he said.

"I'm not feeling well—cramps," I lied, pressing my hand against my lower belly.

Charlie made a knowing, slightly disgusted look. I was glad he knew what I meant and brought me to his house immediately. He didn't stay near my room to see whether I was feeling better. I suppose he was like my dad that way; my dad usually got out of the way when female physiological functions made their way into conversation.

But just to convince him that I wasn't lying, I locked the door and read e.e. cummings poetry and then played Bach's "Air in G String".

My first night in Forks felt strange. It was usually warm in Jacksonville, so out of habit, I slept with the window open. I awoke in the middle of the night shivering. I glanced at the window. But the moonlight shone on something that shouldn't be there: bronze-colored hair and the shape of a girl's pale face, with bright brown eyes. I screamed, looking away once to turn on the bedside lamp. When I turned on the light, Charlie burst into the room.

"Elspeth, what's the matter?" he asked.

I turned to the direction where Vanessa's face had been. She was not there.

Charlie sat on my bed and held my hand. "What is it, baby?" he asked.

"I thought I saw somebody else in the room," I breathed.

"It must be the trick of the light, honey," said Charlie.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I told him.

"Would closing the window make you feel better?" he asked.

"Yes, please," I said.

I watched as he closed the window and locked it. "Sleep well, Elspeth," said Charlie, as he left.

Although I eventually fell asleep again, I tossed and turned quite a few times before I did. I had never experienced seeing things like that before.

The next day, I went for a swim at the public pool. Unlike Bella, I was also curvy, something I inherited from dad's side of the family. A few boys at the pool gawked at me for it, but I didn't mind. I floated on my back for a few minutes, imagining what it would be like when I return home. I hoped Mom would tell me she shouldn't have let me leave; she was predictable that way. Minutes later, I went upright again and then climbed out of the pool.

On the way out, I saw Vanessa eating frozen yogurt from a paper cup. "Elspeth! Hey, Elspeth!" she called. To pretend I hadn't seen her was no use. "Hi, Vanessa," I said weakly.

"Elspeth," she said, when she hurried toward me, "I know I freaked you out last time we met."

"You mean, the _first_ time," I corrected her.

"I had a friend from Florida," she began to explain. "She was from Jacksonville too."

"I bet you spent all day yesterday thinking up that excuse."

"No," she pleaded. "It's true. Our parents left us alone in the house, when some short circuit set the house aflame. I was burned all over my body. My friend saved me, but after that, I never saw her again."

"Is that why you're so covered up in this time of year?" I asked.

She nodded softly and hugged herself. I couldn't help but be moved. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have been so snappish. My sister died from a fire. So, consider yourself lucky." I shrugged.

Her gloved hand held mine. "Would you like some frozen yogurt? I'd like one more cup," she said with a grin.

As I ate my vanilla flavored yogurt, I thought she was not so bad, after all. "What's your family like?" I asked.

"Perfect," she said without hesitation. The answer took me by surprise. I had never met anyone who spoke of their family so lovingly. "My mom was my best friend. We did everything together."

"_Was?_"

"She died in the fire, along with the rest of my family. It was a sleepover, you see. …"

"So where do you live now?"

"I was adopted by a family in La Push," she said. It gave me the impression that she had been answering these questions for a while now.

"Where is La Push?" I asked.

"It's a little Indian community just west of Forks."

"Don't you mean _Native American_?"

"That's what I said."


	3. Chapter 3

_Another Life_

I didn't see Vanessa again for a couple of days. On those days, I met Charlie's best friend, Billy Black, a Quileute man who looked older than Charlie. But neither his age nor his handicap took away his handsomeness. He looked lively and vibrant as his adult son pushed his wheelchair into the house. "I got the beer, Charlie!" he announced. He and his son saw me bringing the popcorn to the living room while Charlie prepared the glasses and the bucket of ice.

"Who might this little lady be?" asked Billy. I blushed; I felt naked without makeup on.

"Ah, Billy, this is Elspeth, Renée's daughter," said Charlie. "Elspeth, this is Billy; and that's his son, Jacob. He and Bella were best friends."

"Oh! Hello," I said.

"How old are you?" asked Jacob.

"Sixteen," I answered.

Jacob looked as if he did math in his head before smiling. He was as handsome as his father.

When the game started, I went up to my room and played the "Presto" movement of Vivaldi's _Summer_. As soon as I was finished, somebody knocked on my door. "Who is it?" I asked.

"It's Jacob," answered the young man's voice. "May I come in?"

"Sure," I said, opening the door myself.

"Was that you playing?" he asked in astonishment.

"Yes," I said softly.

"I thought that was a CD!"

"Thanks," I said. "I get that a lot. Am I needed downstairs?"

"No," he said. "I'd just like a chat. Is that okay?"

"No problem," I said, pulling out the swivel chair from under the desk.

"Thanks," he said, taking the seat.

"Do you and your dad come over a lot?" I asked, sitting on my bed.

"Yeah," said Jacob. "He and Charlie love to watch sports together."

"That's sweet."

Jacob gazed at the posters and collages on the walls. "It's just the way she left it," he said.

"Yeah, you'd think Charlie would put it all away when Bella moved out," I said.

"Have you ever met her?"

"No," I said bitterly. "She always made excuses each time Mom wanted us to visit. She made even more excuses when we'd ask her to visit us. The next thing we know, the house burned down with the family. I was six. I would have liked to meet her, really, because from the way Mom talked about her, she must have been nice—_a better daughter_."

"Oh, don't take it that way!" said Jacob soothingly.

"Yeah, perhaps I shouldn't," I said somberly. "Never speak ill of the dead. …"

"I—Sorry," he said softly. "I hadn't realized that talking about her would hurt you so."

"Of course, it hurts me," I said angrily. "I was born when she went away with Edward Cullen. I'm not like her, and Mom complains about it. Do you realize how insufferable that is?"

Jacob only kept quiet.

Impatiently, I sat up and straightened my clothes. "Oh, listen to me—complaining again."

"Have you talked to Charlie about this?"

"Bella was his daughter. I don't want to hurt him."

That night, Mom called. She said the house felt empty without me. For all her quirks, I missed her, too. I told her I'll be back soon. But she told me that she and Dad would pick me up in a few days. That was so like Mom; sometimes, she didn't think before speaking. I knew she hadn't meant to hurt me; I just showed her that she should learn to avoid that mistake altogether.

I went to the public pool again. There were fewer people there on that particular day. It was a relatively cloudy day. But that didn't stop me from enjoying the water. When I let myself sink beneath the surface and pulled my body into a fetal position, I caught sight of a particularly graceful body moving not far from me. Her long, curly hair looked like a mass of bronze guitar strings. She climbed off the pool and squeezed excess water off her hair. Her skin was startlingly pale against her black one-piece swimsuit. When she gathered her things from a sun lounger, I recognized her as Vanessa. There was no hint of a scar in her skin; I went livid.

Without letting her see me, I followed her to the unoccupied shower room, where she stepped into a shower stall and pulled the curtain closed. "Where are your burn scars, Vanessa?" I asked, pulling the curtain open again. She was stark naked in front of me; her skin was free from any kind of mark or blemish. Not even a freckle or a mark could capture anybody's attention. "_Who are you?_" I demanded, grabbing her arm.

Then, I was suddenly transported to a realm of memories—strange memories.

There was first a gruesome display of blood spattering from a human body. And then, there were beautiful faces. "Renesmée … Nessie …" they called. I saw a young Vanessa watching herself in the mirror, growing at an alarmingly accelerated rate in a matter of days. But the other faces only praised her for it. One of these people caught my attention: Bella, my sister, was there. She looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her in any of the photographs at home. But Bella also had ruby-red irises that changed to black and then to amber—over and over, but never red again. Vanessa called her "Momma"; Vanessa called Bella's husband "Daddy". But these two did not occupy Vanessa's memories any more than Jacob, who turned into a gigantic wolf with an unusually russet color. Vanessa's memories made it clear that these surreal images were real. I could almost feel her love for Jacob, whom Vanessa referred to first as a big brother, then a childhood friend, then a lover. Like the other people, his appearance never aged.

I saw the house the Cullens lived in being set on fire, and the family watched their old home burn before they left to Alaska. But Vanessa returned to La Push to _marry_ Jacob. She was seven years old, but looked like she was seventeen.

She was crying by the time the life review ended. So was I.

"So, you weren't only feeding off false sympathy …" I said, unable to continue. Outraged, I swung my open palm across her face.

I didn't understand half of the things I saw. But one thing was clear: Bella and her family were alive, and she had left her parents to mourn over nothing.

"You shouldn't be angry," said Vanessa, covering her body with the swimsuit she had taken off.

"Who do you think you are, to tell me what to feel?" I said, before storming off.

Charlie was not at home to see me crying in my bed.

"Elspeth, are you there?" asked Vanessa's voice. She was sitting on the windowsill, wearing a frilly pink dress and gray tights underneath.

"How did you get here? What are you, really?"

"I am a half-human, half-vampire hybrid."

"Don't you mean a _dhampir_?"

"Um, yes—my father has been a vampire for a hundred years. But because Momma was still human on their wedding night, I was conceived. But carrying me in her womb was dangerous for her. She could have died giving birth to me if Daddy hadn't turned her into a vampire."

"A _vampire_ …"

"My name is Renesmée Carlie Black. Bella Cullen is my mother. I know I look like I'm at the right age, but I've been like this for almost ten years. In contrast, the rest of my family has not aged since turning into vampires. Momma can't still look eighteen after seventeen years!"

"So she faked her death, breaking her parents' hearts, and I suffer for it. She is none of my concern! And yet the memory of her plagues me all the time. I'm sick of it!"

"Elspeth, you have to understand," she pleaded. "We had to do it! We can't let the humans know our kind exists!"

"But why did she have to become one?"

"What else but love?" she answered, her face brightening with bliss.

Exasperated, I wasn't able to answer at once.

Renesmée continued, "Her love for my father was worth the sacrifice."

"And what of the love of her parents? They let her have her way all the time; she should have had the decency to love _them_ in return!"

"You're being very judgmental," said Renesmée softly.

"I'm being judgmental!" I repeated exasperatedly. "You have no idea how many nights I've seen my mother crying! You have no idea how many times she has searched for the Bella in me and then become frustrated when she didn't find it! Charlie has been very happy since I arrived here, because he's been pretending that I am his daughter. But I'm not, and it hurts them! _That_ is the fruit of your mother's sacrifice, Renesmée. If you think that's a fair trade for Bella's desire for love, think again!"

Renesmée stood, frozen.

"You know what," I said, fed up, "I don't want to see you anymore. Get out of my room. In a few days, I am leaving this place. If I ever come back, don't dare show your face to me again! When you see your mother again, make sure you show her your memory of this day. Don't let her forget."

I pushed Renesmée out of the window. She landed on the ground below gracefully, like a cat.

"Go on, scram!" I shouted at her.


	4. Chapter 4

_Best Friend, Worst Enemy_

Mom and Dad came to Charlie's house the next day, one day earlier than I had expected; it turned out that Charlie knew that all along. "Surprise," said Charlie, grinning at me.

"Oh, Elspeth, I've said things that weren't very nice," said Mom, as she hugged me.

"I guess we _both_ let things go out of hand," I said softly. "You miss Bella, that's all."

"But baby, _you're_ my daughter now," she said.

"I'm just sorry I couldn't be the perfect daughter for you."

"Elspeth, that's what parenthood is all about: to be your best friend and your worst enemy!" she said, cupping my face with her hands.

"So to fill out the best friend part," said Dad, "we're making it up to you. We're going on a road trip: just the three of us, across the country, on the way home."

"No way!" I said.

"I've packed all of your stuff," said Mom. "Now, come on. We're going home."

Before going upstairs to fetch my things, I threw my arms around Charlie's shoulders. "Thanks for letting me come over, Charlie. Being here was fun."

"I just wish we could have—how do you kids say it?—_hung out_ some more," he said.

"I'll be back if you like," I said. "Will you let me come back here, Mom?—Dad?"

"If you and your Mom avoid fighting, we'll see," said Dad.

"It's a deal!"


End file.
